


Unusual

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, F/M, Literally the dirtiest thing I'll ever write probably, Some Humor, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 05:51:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2139453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"That's none of your business."</p>
<p>  "Oh, but Molly, dear." If it was possible, Sherlock's voice dropped an octave. Cautiously he crept around the sofa, kicking away Molly's clothes on the floor. Before she knew it, Sherlock was on his knees next to her, his lips brushing against her ear. Molly shivered a little.</p>
<p>  "It's <em>all</em> of my business, my little pathologist," Sherlock purred.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unusual

**Author's Note:**

> Nonnie on tumblr gave me this one. Omegaverse sherlolly. My god, was this a ride to write (so to speak...whoops). This will probably be the only time I'll write omegaverse. And anything too explicit. For now, anyways. It's just new territory for me to be writing smut. I need a bit of practice.   
> Unbeta'd and unbritpicked. All and any mistakes are mine. I don't own Sherlock or any of its characters.

~*~  
There were a few reasons as to why Molly didn't particularly enjoy her heat cycle.

For one, it was once every two months. Spanning for a few days at a time, her heat interfered with her work schedule. 

Two, it was terribly messy; horny and whimpering for an Alpha practically every second? _No, thank you._ She'd rather not.

And three, Molly absolutely _hated_ not having clear thoughts. She already had a bad time making decisions without hormones and pheromones clogging up her head.

In the first few times she had a heat, Molly instantly knew she didn't think it as enjoyable as much as her peers had made it out to be. So when there was finally a heat suppressant released to the public, Molly pounced on the first opportunity to get some. The minor side effects she had shown (headache, runny nose and eyes, and gut cramps when her heat was supposed to happen) were _honestly_ worth it.

Molly took her suppressants faithfully. Once a day, and once at night. Interspersed with birth control, it made life rather easy for her.

Many people claimed that Omegas were _supposed_ to have heats; otherwise, they'd have serious health problems in the future. It was also taboo to mention the few Omegas taking heat suppressants; so Molly usually put "Beta" on fill-out forms instead of writing out "Omega" with the box checked "taking heat suppressants". 

Was she ashamed that she was an Omega? No, but Molly just didn't want to be harassed by the bigoted people surrounding her. That, and the added fact that she just...didn't like her heat. It was far too much to worry about.

Sure, maybe _someday_ in the future, when she's found a Bond-mate to enjoy it with, she'll embrace her heat with open arms. That day seemed far-fetched, however; no one liked the fact that she did post-mortems all day long. Nobody likes a liar, either. Practically all of her adult life, Molly's told her peers that she was a Beta.

Everyone believed her. 

Well, everyone but one man by the name of Sherlock Holmes.

Alpha male. Arrogance leeched from his very being, but he was _very_ handsome. High cheekbones, piercing blue-green eyes, plush lips. Intellect one unlike any she's ever encountered. Maybe he had a good reason to be arrogant.

On the day she first met him, Molly had received an odd look from Sherlock as they shook hands. Later, Molly realized he had been "deducing" her, unburying her innermost secrets to get to know her.

Sherlock had seemed skeptical about the fact that she was a Beta; mercifully, he didn't mention it aloud.

His best friend, John, an actual Beta, she met later on (since Sherlock allowed John to move in with him as a flatmate). Molly and he got along wonderfully from the first day they met. 

Ever since Molly aided Sherlock in faking his death, they've been closer; and Molly could safely say they were friends, at least. That was good enough for her, even though she desperately wished for a bit more.  
~*~  
An abrupt knock on her office door caused Molly to jump a little, knocking her out of her thoughts. She glanced up at the clock on her office wall and breathed a curse. Her shift was over. Maybe it was Mike coming to remind her, because she tended to stay a bit longer than needed. 

Rubbing at her eyes and yawning, Molly stood and strode over to the door. God, she was tired. Sleep sounded nice.

"Molly. Good evening." Before Molly could react, Sherlock's scent filled her nostrils: smoky, lavender with a hint of pine, and something distinctly spicy. That jolted her awake.

"Sherlock!" Molly yelped. She stuck her head out of the door, ignoring Sherlock for a moment to check if there was anyone else around. Nope; just them. She put a hand on her hip, leaning against the doorway and staring at the beautiful man in front of her. "You know how Mike doesn't like you after hours," she stammered out, smoothing back her hair in a nervous manner.

Frustratingly, Sherlock merely smirked. "He doesn't have to know," he replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets with an innocent look and rocking on his heels.

"Yes, he does. I'll tell him in the morning. Besides, my shift is over, and I want to go home and get some sleep," Molly sighed.

"You promised that I'd get to see the stabbing victim."

"I'll let you see tomorrow."

"The body will be sent to the funeral home early in the morning." _Shit._ He had a point, unfortunately.

A heavy sigh escaped Molly. "Fine. This is the _last_ time I'm doing this," Molly warned, shoving past Sherlock to lead the way to the morgue. 

She could hear the smirk in Sherlock's voice as he retorted, "You said that last time."

"Don't push it, Mister Holmes."  
~*~  
When they finally reached the morgue, Molly pulled out the body from the cooler and stepped back, eyeing Sherlock as he stalked around the body. 

Sherlock's baritone voice raised and lowered as he deduced the cause of death. "Lacerations around the abdomen, suggesting the killer was having a difficult time holding down the victim. A fighter, then. Contusions around the neck. Strangled for good measures. Odd coloring of the skin; a bit of infection..." 

God, Sherlock was _gorgeous_. His voice was the equivalent of melted dark chocolate. The pale lighting caught the red highlights in Sherlock's dark curls and enunciated the lines of his body. Hawk-like eyes deducing the victim to the bone. Sculpted lips forming the words that spouted from his mouth. Graceful hands moving about the cadaver.

Molly had a few different fantasies including Sherlock. Lips sealed against hers, long fingers bringing her over the brink of pleasure again and again, then another time as he joined her in orgasm with powerful thrusts. Moaning each other's names. Grasping at each other desperately. Inside her and swelling, his co—

_Jesus Christ,_ what the hell was she doing, fantasizing as Sherlock inspected a corpse?

_Damn it, Molly. Get it together. Respect for the deceased. Okay, okay. Calm down. Think about that one time poor Mister Fanner blew up while in the body cooler. Innards and gore everywhere._

_Gross._

Sudden sharp pain in her abdomen. Unconsciously, Molly gulped, clutching her stomach. Was her imagination a bit too much?

She hoped it was just that and not something else.

Apparently satisfied, Sherlock stepped away from the body bag, zipping it up. "I apologize for keeping you late, Molly. Thank you for allowing me the extra time," Sherlock said politely as he could muster, hands clasped behind his back.

Not-as-politely, Molly waved off his apologies. "It's alright," she choked out.

A troubled expression crossed Sherlock's face, and he took a step closer. "You're unwell. Your face is flushed and you're trembling. Sweaty forehead..." He pressed the back of his hand to her cheek. "Feverish, too."

Molly let out a hoarse laugh. "No shit, Sherlock."

Another wave of shivers and a bout of pain in her abdomen caused Molly to gasp and double over. Oh, God. No. _Not now._ Not in front of Sherlock. She could've sworn she took her suppressants...

"Molly, I—"

"Don't!" Molly squeaked, holding out a hand. She was still hunched over, and this made speaking a bit difficult. She swallowed then tried again. "Don't come any closer. Please," she begged softly. 

Sherlock, infuriatingly, didn't listen, and stepped closer until he was stood in front of her. "Molly. Can you stand up?" His voice was tender; something Molly wasn't used to. She preferred his baritone, booming voice that she seemed to feel all throughout her body, especially between her legs...

Sherlock smelled _heavenly._ He'd probably taste even better. 

A small gush of wetness between her legs, and Molly whimpered, knowing full well she was damned.

Molly's heat was starting, with an Alpha male in the room with her. Not just any Alpha.

It just _had_ to be Sherlock.

Damn it. Not good. Not good at all.

"If you can't stand, I'm going to have to..." Sherlock trailed off mid-sentence. A sniff from him. Then two. And a soft growl.

With that, Molly jolted upright. "I-I'm sorry, Sherlock, I have to leave...stayed much longer than I wanted to, heh. I'm a bit tired, and I want to get some sleep. M-maybe you can come talk with me later...? No, sorry, you'll be busy—"

"Molly, stop talking," Sherlock snapped. His features were pinched up in a grimace, his fingertips at his temples. It looked like he was concentrating on something, anything, to distract himself from the tent in his trousers— wait...

_What?_

"If you haven't figured out already, I'm an Omega."

"Molly."

"I...I guess I forgot to take my suppressants this morning. Oh _God,_ I won't be able to come to work—"

"Molly."

"—and since I'm unBonded, there'll be Alphas sniffing me out, looking for a good shag, maybe even more, and where the hell would I be, then? Probably not here."

" _Molly._ "

"I'm sorry you had to find out this way, but I didn't want anyone to know, because I'd be outcasted for taking suppressants. And an especially big 'fuck you' to the fact that you're still in the room, and it's taking all my willpower to not just pounce on you and—"

" _Molly!_ " Sherlock finally roared. "Shut up and let me speak, woman!"

Needless to say, Molly clammed up. 

Sherlock took in a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I've known for a while that you're an Omega. Speak no more of that. You've started your heat. Am I aroused? Yes. Only by instinct, of course—"

For some reason, Molly was hurt by that. "I'll just leave, and we won't ever talk about this again. It's okay, I understand," Molly said quickly.

Before any more awkwardness ensued, Molly strode out of the morgue as quickly as possible, covering her mouth to stifle the moan of anguish as Sherlock's scent dissipated.  
~*~  
"Lord almighty, _why_ did it have to be me?" Molly's muffled voice burst from the pillow her head was currently buried underneath.

Molly didn't know exactly who she was talking to.

Her cat? No, he had taken one whiff of her and tore out of the room hissing. Not a big surprise there.

A higher being? Maybe. 

Sherlock, perhaps, for practically initiating her heat? Eh. Might as well blame it on him.

_Oh, God._

With a soft whimper, Molly flipped onto her back, glaring up at the ceiling. Of _course,_ she'd be the one to get the bad batch. Of _course,_ her biological clock would decide that it was time for her heat to have a visit with her. Yes, and while we're at it, Molly thought bitterly, of _course_ it just had to start in front of Sherlock.

That damn detective. All bark and quite a bit of bite. She'd bite him.

Molly's hand crept between her thighs.

Where the hell did her clothing go?

Ah, yes. On the floor. There they are. 

But _why,_ exactly, were they on the floor?

Molly liked to think it was Sherlock who did that. 

A soft gasp escaped Molly as she brushed her finger against her engorged clit. Tingles of pleasure shot up her spine, and she whimpered softly, rocking her hips against her hand.

It was unbelievable how much more Molly could sense. The trickles of sweat between her shoulder blades; a cool contrast to her hot skin. Fingers working desperately between her thighs; rubbing her clit, darting in and out of her slick opening.

Sherlock's smoky, bittersweet scent wafting into her nose. It was kind of strong, too. Wow. She had a good imagination.

Wait. No. _Wait a second._

Molly's eyes fluttered open. The hands between her thighs stopped almost immediately.

And Molly's breath hitched at the sight of an upside-down Sherlock Holmes.

No amount of self-preparation could've made her ready for the tidal wave of wetness that coated the inside of her thighs; or for the sudden bout of embarrassment.

_Alpha!_ her mind screamed. _He's an Alpha!_

_He's also Sherlock Holmes, apparently married to his work and attracted to no one. Right?_

With a shriek, Molly tumbled off of the couch, grappling with the blanket sat on the arm for a moment then giving up. She resorted to bringing her knees to her chest to give herself some semblance of dignity while nude. In front of Sherlock Holmes. Who was currently staring down at her.

"Sherlock, what...what the hell?" Molly panted, wide-eyed. The pheromones and hormones clouded her mind terribly; but Molly had enough self-control to keep herself from practically pouncing on Sherlock.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at Molly. "You were thinking of me, weren't you?" A self-satisfied smirk crept onto his features. Molly blushed hotly.

"That's none of your business."

"Oh, but Molly, dear." If it was possible, Sherlock's voice dropped an octave. Cautiously he crept around the sofa, kicking away Molly's clothes on the floor. Before she knew it, Sherlock was on his knees next to her, his lips brushing against her ear. Molly shivered a little.

"It's _all_ of my business, my little pathologist," Sherlock purred. Another jolt down Molly's spine, causing her to keen softly.

Vaguely, through the haze of Sherlock's smoky scent and her outrageous arousal, Molly thought carefully about what Sherlock had said. _His_ pathologist? Since when did this happen?

Molly placed a hand on Sherlock's chest and pushed him away slightly. She was glad that he wasn't tackling her to the ground, as many other Alphas would've done at the scent of an unBonded Omega.

"How am I yours? You're not even interested—"

Sherlock pressed a finger to her lips, chuckling quietly. "While in the morgue, you left before I could finish."

Rolling her eyes, Molly crossed her arms expectantly. "Well, go on and finish, or you can leave. Door's right over there."

"Well. Anyways. I'm aroused by instinct; but I didn't come here to just fuck and leave, Molly." Sherlock cupped her tiny hands in his and pressed a tender kiss to each of her palms. "I came here because..." He looked away and sucked in a breath, letting it out slowly. "I want you to be mine, and I want to be yours. I've had my sights set on you, Molly, for God only knows how long."

Turquoise-blue eyes met chocolate-brown ones. "You're my pathologist. I'd be lying if I said you didn't count."

Molly chewed on her bottom lip nervously, ignoring the fact her throat was closing up with tears at his words. "S-so I'm yours?" She whispered.

A smile graced Sherlock's features. "As much as I am to you," he murmured.

Molly's head spun with the new information. Sherlock was hers. She was his. With a small smile, Molly pressed her lips against Sherlock's gently, but the kiss soon got to be demanding. All lips and tongue, teeth clacking together at one point; neither person cared.

"You need less clothing," Molly finally mumbled against his lips. Sherlock uttered an agreement in return.  
~*~  
Very, _very,_ soon, Molly's legs were wrapped around Sherlock's waist as he carried her to her bedroom. She nuzzled against his neck, breathing in his strong scent; extremely potent, near the nape of his neck...

Lightly, Molly nipped at his neck, smiling at the groan that escaped Sherlock. 

"Keep that up, and I'm afraid I'll have to take you on the floor," Sherlock growled in her ear, sending a delightful shiver up her spine.

"Is that a threat or a promise?" Molly breathed. She let out a giggle while Sherlock tossed her onto the bed, then he quickly followed, his naked body on top of her equally naked form.

Lips were pressed against lips again, languid movements making it all the more sweet. Then Sherlock's fingers were pressing against her center; thumb rubbing her clit in small circles as he thrust first one then two fingers into her.

Molly arched her back slightly and moaned. She would've never thought this would happen to her. Surely she was dreaming.

Obviously not. Sherlock nibbled and licked his way down her neck, all the while wicked fingers drawing out Molly's orgasm from her soaked cunt. Molly whined Sherlock's name softly, her fingers carding into his hair. Oh, God. He was barely holding her at the brink; agonizingly holding her back.

And she came crashing down, hips rocking up against his hand as Molly bit down on her knuckle and squeezed her eyes shut. _Stars above,_ that was...intense. She was vaguely aware of Sherlock chuckling.

Molly sat up on her elbows. "What?" She croaked. 

"You, and your way of saying things. Stars above?" Sherlock offered her a smirk.

Molly looked away bashfully. "Just used to saying that," she mumbled.

A soft squeak escaped Molly while Sherlock pulled his fingers out of her. Somehow, she mourned the loss. Her eyes widened as Sherlock brought his fingers to his mouth, smiling devilishly as he sucked them into his mouth. Sherlock groaned aloud.

"God, I've been meaning to taste you for ages. I could've licked the air and got a taste of you in the lab. Your scent was amazing. Still is," he growled.

Molly, if it was possible, felt another rush of wetness coat her inner thighs, and she whimpered softly when Sherlock's eyes snapped open, desire pooling in them.

Both stayed silent for a moment, considering each other, before Molly took in a sharp breath. 

"Please, Sherlock. Now. Do it. I want you terribly," she whispered, eyes quickly darting to between his thighs. She audibly gulped at the sight of his erection, fully Alpha male.

And all for her.

Sherlock laid her back and pressed against her, her breasts pushing against his chest.

"Molly. Oh, Molly. My Molly," Sherlock mumbled. He lightly kissed below her ear then took his prick in hand.

With a final nod from Molly, Sherlock eased himself into her, his eyes never leaving hers. He was big. Bigger than what she's even taken. A small gasp escaped Molly. Little tingles of pleasure raced up her spine. 

The petite pathologist wrapped her arms around Sherlock's neck, nuzzling him beneath the skin of his ear. When he started to move, Molly was breathless. Sherlock was being so gentle, so sweet with her; yet she could tell he was holding back the more animalistic side of himself just by the way he trembled with every thrust into her. That touched her deeply for some unknown reason.

Ever so gingerly, Molly brushed a damp curl behind Sherlock's ear and smiled at him warmly. She leant up and brushed a kiss against his forehead then murmured his name softly. Little light caresses to let him know she was okay and happy.

As time went by, their movements became more urgent; their breaths becoming pants; soft sighs becoming loud moans.

Soon, Molly felt a bit of stretching going on inside her, then she realized it must be Sherlock's knot: thickening and growing harder as her orgasm neared.

"Molly, I'm going to...my knot..." Sherlock stumbled over his words through gritted teeth, his features pinched up in pleasure.

"It's okay, love. Let go," she mewled. Molly snuck a hand between them and rubbed her clit. 

There she was again, tumbling over some unknown edge, gasping for air as pleasure rocketed through her body, whilst Sherlock roared out his completion above her.

The two collapsed on the bed, locked together in an intimate embrace as Sherlock's cock twitched within her. They'd be locked together for a good half an hour, miniature spasms coming and going.

Molly stroked the skin at the small of Sherlock's back; glistening with sweat from their exertions. "How did you get into my flat?" She mused with an amused expression.

Sherlock laughed softly. "Here I am, with my cock still in you, and you're stuck on that?"

"No. I just want to know if you still have the spare key," Molly giggled.

"Yes."

"Why?"

He paused for a moment to consider the question. "Because. Thought it might come in handy one of these days," Sherlock replied finally,

Molly resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "And here you are, with your cock still in me," she mimicked, smirking at him.

Sherlock gave her a mild warning look. "Don't give me any more ideas."

"Like what? Shagging me into the mattress?"

"That's on the top of my list right now."

The two giggled quietly like children for a moment. 

"Well, that and you moving in with me at Baker Street."

That made Molly sit up on her elbows, jostling another tiny eruption of pleasure out of the both of them: Molly's inner muscles squeezing around Sherlock, and in response, Sherlock managed to dribble a bit more come into Molly.

They recaptured their breaths for a moment before Molly dared to speak. "But we haven't—we've not even...Sherlock, it's been _three hours!_ "

Sherlock blinked. "I've know you for nearly seven years, Molly. We should be on terms of moving in with each other, if I recall correctly form that _blasted_ Internet site." He scowled at the wall as if to blame its structure. Or something. One couldn't be sure with Sherlock.

Molly let out a sigh then pressed a sweet kiss against Sherlock's mouth. "You're a lovely, lovely man, Sherlock. Of course I'll move in with you," she said softly, smiling at him adoringly.

A small smirk lit up his face. "Good. Then we can start on plans for marriage."

He earned a whack on the shoulder for that one, unsurprisingly.


End file.
